Warm Enough
by PrettyxLittlexWriter
Summary: You're helping Sherlock at a crime scene, but you didn't dress for the elements. A one shot.


It was cold down by the water's edge, colder than you'd anticipated. Although, even if someone had told you how chilly you would be, it's not like Sherlock or John gave you much of a chance to dress for the elements. They were both up and dashing out of the flat as soon as they'd gotten Lestrade's call, leaving you time only to grab your car keys and throw on a light jacket as you hurried after them.

You pull the edges of your sleeves down over your hands and ball up your fists, trying to warm your frigid fingers while you watch Sherlock, crouched next to a body that has washed up on shore. The wind picks up, ruffling through your hair and you shiver. You stamp your left foot, then your right, trying to get feeling back into your toes.

Sherlock stands and circles the corpse, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, deep in thought. He removes his small magnifying glass from his pocket and bends down again, examining something behind the decedent's ear.

"Here, look," he says, his tone somewhat triumphant. "Two burn marks. He was tasered, just behind his left ear." There is a flurry of movement as Lestrade, Anderson and John all jockey for room to see what the consulting detective has discovered. While they are all bending down to look, Sherlock glances in your direction and frowns. He turns and moves towards you, concern etched on his face.

"Cold?" he murmurs, his voice deep and low. You nod, thinking that cold was putting it mildly. Suddenly, he reaches out and places a hand on each of your biceps and vigorously rubs your arms up and down in an effort to warm you. You smile at this action, reveling in the rare physical contact and it's more than the friction that begins to warm you. You want to close your eyes and nestle in against him, to have him wrap his arms around you and feel the heat radiating off of his tall, lean frame. You want to know what his body feels like pressed to yours, to see if your head tucks in beneath his chin as perfectly as you imagine it would, to discover how far up on your tiptoes you have to stand for your lips to reach his. You've been patient with him and you care for him so deeply that you know your patience will not run out anytime soon, but he's so close now and with everyone else distracted, you're more tempted than you've ever been to push this new relationship into uncharted waters. You feel yourself blushing and for the first time this morning, you are glad that it's freezing outside, for the cold air has already reddened your cheeks and is acting like a camouflage for your heady flush.

Sherlock smiles down at you and gives your arms a little squeeze before letting go. It's time for him to go back to work. He turns away from you back towards the body but stops. He reaches up and unravels his scarf from about his neck and turns back towards you. He drapes it over your shoulders and wraps it around your neck a few times. It's still warm and you nestle your cold nose down into it, inhaling the ever intoxicating scent of him.

"Thank you," you whisper and he nods at you before rejoining the group. You see a small smirk playing on John's lips and you know he is the only person here who noticed and understands the significance of this gesture. You hold his eye contact for a long second and know that although he had reservations about you dating Sherlock, he is genuinely happy for the two of you.

Sherlock seems to almost hurry the rest of the crime scene analysis along and soon you are all climbing back into your car. You turn the heat on full blast but still don't feel thawed out even by the time the three of you arrive back at Baker Street. John runs to grab you a sweater and you wrap yourself in a blanket on the couch while Sherlock starts a fire in the hearth.

Once the fire seems self sustaining, he joins you on the couch and your heart skips a beat as he sits down right next to you. Slowly, he reaches up his arm over and behind your shoulders. Tentatively, you lean your bodyweight against him, taking a second to settle in comfortably.

"This is nice, thank you," you whisper.

"My pleasure," he responds and you can tell by his voice that it is. This is all as new to you as it is to him. You've never been the kind of girl to take it slow, but for this man, you'd wait years, maybe longer. And even though this is foreign territory to you both, as you nestle in against him, in front of a cozy fire, feeling the warmth start to spread back your bones, you realize nothing has ever felt as comfortable as this.


End file.
